The Last
by Laine -Formerly SageRain
Summary: Trowa's POV, AU. From a starter my friend was working on a couple months ago. Old-fic No Updates


The Last  
Rain In My Eyes  
  
Gundam Wing cannot be mine, I'm just the darkness. There is no pairings. Go me. It's dark, and based on the story starter that Mato worked out. I've taken it and used it without the proper authorisation code. So sue me, you know what happens if you do.  
  
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The black light shines in, the rough screens filter ou the life from the room. The dust motes dance around the tomb, fore that is what it should accurately call it. The floor, covered with a fine layer of dirt and leave, and more liberally spread with memories, waited for the occupants to take another breath. But the wait would last till the structure crumbled under the eternal sands of time. The last of the life in the chamber had died many eons ago when all the flesh hand been stripped off the bones of the four occupants if the chamber.  
  
One skeleton, shackled in the fetal position around a bit of plastic and metal, has a hole through it's head where a bullet once passed through, the slug is logged in the base of the spine. I know, I put it there.  
  
Another drew a swords blade at me before he died. It sits a foot away from its crumbling remains. The bullet wound in his skull a tribute to fast action.  
  
The former blonds head sits now in the lap of bones, spine severed just above his shoulders. The few pieces of faded pink rags hang off it like bits of dried chicken.  
  
And the last whose bits are everywhere, he who wouldn't die till you hacked him up. The one that talked deep into the silence of death. I hear him conversing with my former friends the Gundam pilots.  
  
The struggle has been over for too many years. Humanity has ceased to fight. Humanity has ceased.   
  
A mistake was made a long time ago. No one took it upon themselves to fix it.  
  
My name is Trowa Barton; today is the anniversary if the fall of the human race and today is the day I fix it. If you are reading this you will know I succeeded. But I will be dead and I will not live to see the final outcome.  
  
I have seen one outcome. Lived many lifetimes, fought in more wars than were recorded, watched the time turn from AC, to RD (real date) and to SD (star date). I've seen the death toll reach the hundred thousands, the millions and the billions. I watched the madmen and saints rule the sphere and beyond. I watched them become sterile, trying to breed in test tubes, trying to engineer new humans, try to make robots that will carry in their legacy. The robots rusted, the babies were hollow soulless creatures. I witnessed the last mortal die some tens of millions of years ago, a long lingering death.  
  
I know this earth will be a better world if I can change one thing. It won't be perfect, but it will seem more like home.  
  
My foot slams into the wire mesh, it breaks like dry leaves and I slip into the chamber with the saviours of the human race. The handgun still sits where I dropped it so many years ago.  
  
I pick it up. It's still loaded and I have no doubt in my mind that it will fire. Fire across the millennia and change history. It feels heavy in my hand. It feels foreign, but I still know how to fire one of these.  
  
My finger pulls the trigger back and time stands still. Each nanometre pulling me back centuries, and when the gun clicks and finally lets loose the last bullet, time snaps back to the decision.  
  
"Trowa-san, don't do it, not Heero, not Heero! NOT HEERO!" came the cry of the blond corpse as it became magically refleshed.  
  
The scattered bones of Duo reassembled as he started to chatter," Listen to Quat, Trowa, he speaks sense... He wants you to stop. Stop for Quat, stop..."  
  
Then I realise that I'm no longer holding the gun to my head, I'm holding it to Heero's, trigger slowly creeping back.  
  
My dream again. I know what happens next.  
  
Wufei jumps up behind me and I blow his brains out.   
  
Not this time. I've memorised every move he could make, and does make. The gun barrel presses it's self against his forehead. I don't fire. These four are the best the world has to offer.  
  
I turn the gun onto myself and pull the trigger. The new eternity flows it's self in front of my. I see happiness. I see war. I see people dieing. I see the downfall of the human race.  
  
I open my eyes. The dust motes fly in the filtered black light. The ground under me covered in a thin layer of dirt and leaves, with a thicker layer of memories, but not mine.  
  
These are the memories of the false profits of a dead world, they fought in wars, the made the peace, they couldn't stop the hunger of the death of the human race, they were near men. As an immortal I should see that. So once again we try this again. Hoping this time we can get it right.  
  
I am Trowa Barton, the curse of the human race.  
  
End 


End file.
